


Cuffed to a Nephilim

by mattzerella_sticks



Series: Cuffed 'verse [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Adoption, Angst, Batman - Freeform, Christmas, Christmas Fluff & Angst, Cute Castiel, Cute Dean Winchester, Cute Jack, Earnest Castiel, F/F, F/M, Five years in the future, Fluff, Gifted Jack, Implied/Referenced Drug Addiction, In the first chapter, M/M, Minor Character Death, Overdosing, Parenthood, Pessimistic Dean Winchester, Presents, Santa Clause - Freeform, Sweet Castiel, Sweet Dean, Target - Freeform, Tears, angst & feels, time skip, warm feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 08:24:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17076797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mattzerella_sticks/pseuds/mattzerella_sticks
Summary: It's been five years since we last left Dean and Cas. They've gotten together, and have even had a few adventures within that span of time. But this new one is something they never planned for. What happens, when days before Christmas, they're left a little present in the form of a four-year old boy?Dean and Cas - and now Jack - must navigate the waters of family life during one of the most stressful times of the year. Good thing there's nothing to fake this time around. Or is there?SEQUEL to Cuffed to an Angel





	1. Cuffed to New Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> What's up ho-ho-ho's I'm BACK!
> 
> This was such a lovely universe I couldn't help but dip my toes back into its waters (even though I finished writing this fic two months ago - I apparently still miss it). With Christmas coming up, I really wanted to write a fic about the holidays again. But whereas the first was a Christmas rom-com, this is more of a family holiday special.
> 
> I had a lot of fun writing all of this, and think you're all really going to like what I wrote. You don't have to read 'Cuffed to an Angel' before reading this, but it will help you understand what's going on PLUS it's really good so it's not like it'd be a chore.
> 
> Anyway, ENJOY!

_December 17 th, 2022_

            They weren’t expecting any guests.

            He and Cas started their holiday breaks only yesterday. And they celebrated like undergrads. Charlie and Meg joined them at the dive he and Cas met in all those years ago, following them from bar to bar as they downed mint-flavored drinks.

            Dean paid for them know, with a splitting headache that pounded in time with the person on the other side of his front door. He groans from beneath his pillow.

            So does Cas. The other man, suffering worse from their night out, shoves at him. “Dean, make it stop.”

            “Can’t you?”

            He whines. “No.”

            “If I make coffee will you do it?”

            “If you can make coffee, you can answer the door.”

            “Out of the two of us who’s more personable when hung over?”

            Dean sighs. “ _Me_.” He doesn’t need an encore of Grumpy Cas opening the door. When he published his second book two years ago, the launch party was ridiculous. There was much more fanfare, as he wrote a western romance novella between a steadfast sheriff and a rebellious outlaw. ‘ _Fiction is always better received than non-fiction_.’ And with Chuck’s help, it was polished to perfection. The guest list was long, and the open bar generous. Dean didn’t wake up until the afternoon, and when he did it was to his then-boyfriend shouting at a few girl scouts. ‘ _They never come by anymore_ ,’ he muses, ‘ _I miss Thin Mints._ ’

            “I’ll go make us coffee.” Cas rolls out of bed, shuffling over to the kitchen. Dean waits a beat before following. However he misses the turn and strides over towards the door.

            “I’m coming, I’m coming.” Dean swings it out wide, wiping the crust from his bleary eyes. “How can I help you –“ he focuses on the blond toddler, staring up at him with wide, blue eyes – “ _baby_.”

            “Excuse me, are you Mr. DiAngelo?” He slides his gaze upward to the older woman. The little boy gripped tight to the tips of her fingers, her slightly bent over to accommodate.

            “ _No_ …” Dean flicks between her and the kid, mind too addled from the alcohol to make any sense as to why they are there. He asks her, “Why are you looking for Cas?”

            “It’s a matter I can only discuss with Mr. DiAngelo.”

            Dean flashes his engagement ring towards her. “Well I’m his _fiancé_ , so I’m as good _as_ a DiAngelo… even though we’re taking _my_ last name.” She looks put out, but not as argumentative as before. “So, why do you want Cas?”

            “Because this young child is his son.”

* * *

            “Cas!”

            He fumbles with the Keurig Cup, nearly dropping it. “What?”

            “Get in here!”

            “What about the coff –“

            “Forget the coffee,” Dean shouts, “We have more _pressing_ sh… _stuff_ to deal with.”

            Castiel carries the Cup with him, too concerned with Dean’s tone to put it down. The last time Dean sounded like that, as if his vocal chords ran through a shredder, he had to restrain him until he calmed down. They were down in Kansas visiting Mary and John. And after running into a few of Dean’s old school bullies one night. The next morning the Impala was covered in slurs and toilet paper. So Castiel knows nothing good comes from that tone.

            Except he finds the woman and child standing just inside the frame exist in a morally grey area. ‘ _What could be so bad about this?_ ’ “Dean… care to explain what’s going on?”

            Dean rounds on him, bloodshot green eyes alight with fury. “I don’t know, _Castiel_ , can you?”

            “I… am unsure how to respond.”

            “Mr. DiAngelo,” the woman steps through the door fully, little boy in tow, “I’m sorry for the intrusion but… well, my name is Lily Sunder. I’m with the State. And this here is Jack. He… he’s your son.”

            The Cup crushes within his grip, coffee grounds leaking to the floor. “My… _son_?”

            Dean huffs a laugh. “Yeah. Your _son_.” Castiel turns to Dean, and bites back a curse. He’s closed himself off, arms defiantly held over his chest, resting all his weight on one foot with his hip tucked out. ‘ _That’s not good for **me**.’_

Lily looks between the couple. “Why don’t we take a seat and I can share Jack’s story with both of you.”

            “I’d _love_ to hear his story.” Dean seats himself on an armchair, swinging one leg over the other. Castiel, at least, closes the door behind Lily and Jack before joining them. She’s taken the couch, helping Jack onto the cushions before sitting next to him. They’re digging through his tiny backpack until he pulls out a small action figure – _Batman_.

            “We’ve found that when discussing… the past, it’s best for Jack to have his toy,” she says, “for _comfort_.”

            “Of course,” he sits across from Dean in the other armchair. “I take it Jack’s story isn’t a kind one?”

            “It never is when _we_ have to get involved.”

            “What… happened?”

            Lily smiles sadly, glancing at the boy before giving Castiel her full attention. “Jack was brought to us a few days ago, after a neighbor heard him crying from the next apartment over. It was his… his mother –“ she runs a gentle hand through his hair –“ they found him sitting by her bed. He was calling for her over and over, except she wasn’t responding. _Overdose_.”

            “My God. Opioids?” Lily nods. Castiel curses silently under breath, as a member of the force more than familiar with the terrible addiction epidemic.

            “No kid should ever find that,” he hears Dean say. Castiel looks over at the other man, his walls crumbling already. Dean stares at Jack, watches him fiddle with Batman’s cape, frown firmly in place. “She didn’t make it?”

            “Paramedics never had a chance.”

            “And you’re sure _Cas_ is the dad?” Dean asks.

            “It’s what Ms. Kline put on the certificate –“

            “Wait,” Castiel stops her, “Kline… as in _Kelly Kline_?”

            “…Yes?”

            He and Dean turn to each other. They communicate silently with their eyes. Dean swiftly extinguishing the angry fire Jack’s entrance kindled, Castiel expressing nothing but confusion with his own expression.

            “Ms. Sunder, would you care for coffee?” 

* * *

 

            “Why would Kelly put your name on the birth certificate?”

            Dean leans on the countertop as Cas busies himself with the drinks. He’s trying to piece together the mystery for his detective husband. Kelly seemed like a nice girl, but Dean only met her the one time – way back when he and Cas went to his parents’. She was pregnant then, and it _definitely_ wasn’t Cas’s.

            “I have no clue,” Cas says, rummaging around the cupboards, “Do we have any hot chocolate?”

            “None that work with the Keurig – here, let me put the kettle on.”

            “Thanks.”

            “I thought you were going to have coffee?”

            “It’s for Jack,” Cas tells him, “I thought he might be more comfortable with something sweet. He _is_ a DiAngelo after all.”

            “But not _yours_?”

            Cas sighs, leaning in closer to Dean’s space. “I… had my suspicions, of who Kelly’s baby’s father was. Luke was… very inappropriate all throughout dinner with her.”

            “Shit,” Dean says, “If that’s true… well, it’s not like he can take care of a kid where he is.” He was at home when he heard the news. Cas was due back from work within the hour, and Dean needed to start dinner. But Sam sent him an article, and then another, and Charlie frantically called him, telling him to turn on the news.

            After Cohen was indicted on charges of collusion, the FBI dug through his files to find two other names – Zachariah and Luke DiAngelo. Both were arrested and the tidal waves of charges washing over them nearly scared Dean as much as it delighted him. With a warrant to look through their taxes, there was enough evidence to put them away for two lifetimes. The DiAngelos kept taking hits after that. With the government collecting what they were owed, Naomi was left near penniless and completely reliant on the kids who didn’t hate her. But with Luke in prison, Anna always abroad, and Michael nursing a cruel wound from losing his House seat, her height of luxury was a fraction of what she’s used to.

            “I can understand why she wouldn’t want to put your brother’s name on there,” Dean says, “But yours? You only met her once!” Cas drops his gaze, rubbing at his neck. “Right?”

            “We… may have run into each other one other time.”

            “ _Cas_?”

            “She was _very_ pregnant – due any day by the looks of it – and my family was _still_ having her run errands,” Cas explains, “I bumped into her picking up my father’s dry cleaning. I didn’t think we’d exchange more than a few quick words but… when I caught a glimpse of her errands list…”

            “You had to help.”

            Cas smiles. “I _did_ swear an oath.”

            “To protect and serve the _law_. Didn’t know helping pregnant women was state-mandated now.”

            “My _own_ oath, dork,” Cas shoves him lightly, “To help those in any way I can. Show a little kindness.”

            “So you finished her list for her?”

            “I helped her along,” he tells him, “drove Kelly where she needed to go in my cruiser. Between stops we chatted… she asked about you.”

            “She did?”

            “Asked if we were still together… how we were doing… if we were happy –“ his eyes flash, like a sunbeam glittering along the ocean surface – “wait, I remember…”

            “What do you remember?”

            “I bought her a donut, a little extra treat – to make her feel better. And… she hugged me. _Cried_. I was… the only DiAngelo to ever show her any human decency and I think that broke her. Kelly confessed to me how scared she was to raise her son alone – without a father. Said she wished he could have someone like me as a dad, someone to look up to… I didn’t think she’d mean it _literally_.”

            “Well that’s good then, right?”

            “What do you mean?”

            “We tell Lily and get this all sorted out.” Dean thought, with Cas’s story, they could help Jack along to find people better suited to raising him. He didn’t count on the way Cas’s mouth thinned into a firm line. Or how his shoulders set themselves in firm righteousness. “You’re actually considering taking this kid in, aren’t you?”

            “Aren’t you?”

            “Jack _isn’t_ your son –“

            “Does it matter?”

            “Probably!” Dean says, “I mean – the only reason they’re here is because Kelly put you down on the birth certificate. If they find out you aren’t actually his dad they could take him away. And worse, _we_ could probably get in a lot of trouble.”

            “He’s got DiAngelo blood,” Cas whispers, “Isn’t that enough?”

            “I’m not sure that’s a good defense if we get sued.”

            “Dean, he’s got nowhere else to go…”

            Dean sighs, kneading at his brows. The kettle comes to a boil; whistle compounding the splitting headache that’s been growing exponentially with every minute. “Let’s see what his other options are, and… if it’s _only_ us… we can let him stay for a _few_ days. At least give him a good Christmas.”

            Cas smiles, “Thank you, Dean.”

            “Now go bring the coffee out, I’ll work on getting the hot chocolate ready.”

            Cas puts all the mugs on a tray, kissing Dean before carrying it all back into the living room. He pulls another mug out as well as the hot chocolate mix. Dean pours the hot water into the cup, adding the powder before stirring it all together. ‘ _Cas you bleeding heart… if we took in every kid with a troubled life around Christmas we’d be cramped._ ’ He moves to grab more ingredients. ‘ _But damn if I don’t love his big heart._ ’ Generous with the marshmallows, he douses chocolate sauce over it all. ‘ _If we let Jack go he might be lost in the system – **if** he doesn’t have anyone else._’

            Carrying it into the room, he sees Lily and Cas talking. Jack still plays with his Batman, the caped crusader waddling back and forth on his knees. ‘ _And he’d had to like Batman, too… make it any harder why don’t you_?’

            “Dean,” Cas looks to him, face grim, “I… Jack is _definitely_ staying.”

            “Come again?”

            “Mr. DiAngelo just asked if Jack had any immediate family besides him,” Lily says, “And, well – Ms. Kline unfortunately was an only child whose parents died two years ago in a boating accident.”

            “…Of course they did.”

            Lily glances at the fourth mug. “And what’s that?”

            “Hot chocolate,” Dean tells her, “for Jack.” He walks over to the other side of the couch where he sits, kneeling. Jack still focuses on his toy. “Hey,” he starts, voice soft, “Jack? My name’s Dean… Cas over there thought you might like some hot chocolate. Would you like that?”

            Jack finally looks up, at the mug than him. His tiny lips are parted in awe, eyes still so wide. He drops his toy in his lap, reaching out for the drink, nodding all the while.

            “Okay, okay,” Dean laughs, “careful with it, little guy. Kinda hot.” He helps Jack hold the drink, showing him where to place his hands. Leaning back, Dean lets him take his first sip.

            His eyes light up for the first time since walking into the apartment. Jack smiles, showing off where one tooth has already fallen out on the bottom row. Then, he says, in the quietest whisper Dean has ever heard, “… _Thank_ _you_.”

            ‘ _Aw hell_ …’ He lost. “So, what do we have to do?”


	2. Cuffed to Child Rearing

            He shouldn’t be here. Today was supposed to be just him and Cas, sitting in their pajamas and watching old Christmas movies on the TV. Except now Dean stands outside a nearby Target, staring up at the red bull’s-eye with horror in his eyes. It seemed like the better option, at the time. Lily needed signatures – _Cas’s_ – and he was _always_ better with paperwork.

            “Jack’s gonna need clothes, some more toys, _food_?” Dean listed as he ran around for his keys and jacket. “I’ll be back before you know it.” He didn’t even change out of his sweats, stuffed his bare feet into shoes before fleeing from his home. ‘ _Thank God for sturdy boots_ ,’ he thought while trudging through the snow of the parking lot.

            Dean stood too long in front of the entryway. He garners loads of stares loitering there. So he pushes himself forward, walking stiffly into the store. Ignoring the greeter, he moves towards a cart rack and grabs one.

            “Kids’ stuff… kids’ stuff…” He scans the aisles, looking for any sign. Dean rounds the corner, and breathes a sigh of relief as he happens upon the clothes section. It’s short-lived, however, as Dean can’t find anything suitable. ‘ _Was kids’ clothes always so… tacky?_ ’

            “Hi, do you need any help?”

            A young, heavyset woman in a red vest stares up at him. Dean glances at the shirts he’s holding before turning to her. “Yeah, do you have anything for a boy that _doesn_ ’ _t_ make him look like a douche?” ‘ _I mean who still puts ‘Chick Magnet’ on kids’ shirts these days…_ ’

            “I’m sure we can help you find something that’ll fit your tastes,” she says in a cheery voice, putting the clothes back on the rack. “By the way, my name is Ashley –“

            “Dean.”

            “Nice to meet you.” She guides him through the racks, searching. “I take it you’re doing some last minute shopping?”

            “What gave it away?” Dean laughs, “Yeah, kind of got sprung on me last minute. Need to find clothes, some toys – and food, too, for a kid.”

            “Food?” she asks, “A little odd for a gift, wouldn’t you think?”

            “Oh – no, it’s not for a gift. My fiancé and I we’re…” ‘ _Don’t be one of those people who blabs your life story to a stranger, Dean. **Again**._’ “we’re _adopting_. But the whole process kind of… _sped_ up. So we’re getting him a little bit quicker than we thought.”

            “Oh! Like an early Christmas gift, isn’t that special!” She picks out a long sleeved tee with a truck on it. “Like this?”

            “Yeah that’s cute.” She lays it down in the cart, selecting a few more shirts as he keeps talking. “An _unexpected_ gift. While Cas is dealing with the paperwork and getting Jack settled, I’m here collecting supplies.”

            Ashley holds up a shirt with Superman on it, and he waves it away, pointing at Batman. “Figures, sticking _you_ with the shopping.”

            “Do you have any plaid shirts?” he asks, before her words sink in. “And what do you mean by that?” She seemed like a nice girl, but you can never really know what someone thinks of you. ‘ _It’d be disappointing… but don’t get ahead of yourself._ ’

            “Yeah in the back – before we do, do you know what pant size Jack is?”

            “Uh… small?”

            “…I’ll get a range,” she says, tossing a few jeans, khakis, and corduroy pants in. “What I meant was your Cass? Probably thinks you wouldn’t know what to do with a kid so you’ve been sent away so as not to cause any problems.” They’re near the back, and she holds up a few plaids for Dean to judge. He picks out a red one, a blue-and-purple one, and a pink one.

            On a nearby shelf, Dean spots a sweater. It’s brown, with bold white letters spelling out ‘Choco-holic’. He smiles, imagining Jack in it. ‘ _He’d look cute._ ’ “Actually, I’m _way_ better with kids.” ‘ _Cas doesn’t know **anything** about childcare_.’ He thinks back to a story he was told once. Back when his fiancé was an officer. There was a kid in the waiting area, wearing a shock blanket. Her parents were busy filing a report about a mugging. She had been kicking her feet, staring sadly at the floor. To make her feel better, Cas bought her a candy bar.

            “Dean it’s not funny,” Cas said, smacking him in the chest.

            He kept sniggering. “She’s okay now, right? Her parents had the Epi-pen. Why didn’t you ask if she had any allergies?”

            “I figured she’d know!”

            “Angelface, she’s _five_. I bet she still won’t remember her peanut allergy even after her throat swelled up.”

            He comes back from the memory. “Cas didn’t send me here, _I_ made the call to get out of the way.”

            “Why would you do that?”

            “I don’t know,” he tells her, “Processing? I only woke up little over an hour ago so this has been like a whirlwind.”

            “And Cass? Does she have any problems?”

            Dean pauses, glancing up at Ashley with a smirk. “Cas is a _dude_.”

            “Oh.” She flushes, face as red as her vest. “I’m so sorry – I didn’t mean to imply –“

            “S’okay,” he shrugs, “This could have gone one of two ways and thankfully you picked the one I knew you would.” She smiles at the compliment. “Anyway, I think I have enough clothes. Do you think you could point me towards food and toys?”

            “Sure. Toys should be a few aisles that way –“ she points behind him –“ and food is upstairs. If he’s a kid, I recommend dinosaur nuggets and fruit juices.”

            “Of course. Thanks for your help.”

            “It’s my pleasure,” she says, “Better hurry. If you’re the one who’s good with kids you shouldn’t leave your fiancé with him for too long.” Ashley exits with that bittersweet goodbye.

            Dean’s eyes widen. “ _Shit_.” 

* * *

 

            Castiel wished Dean didn’t leave.

            Lily didn’t have many forms for him to sign, and they finished in barely a half hour. She bid Jack a fond farewell, hugging him and dropping a small kiss to his head. “I’ll be checking up more after the holidays,” she told Castiel, “but if there are any emergencies or you and your partner have any questions, call me.” She handed him her business card, showing herself out.

            Leaving Castiel and Jack alone. He looks over towards the boy. Jack owlishly blinks at him, hot chocolate finished, and Batman haphazardly stuffed into his knapsack.

            ‘ _Introductions. Let’s start there._ ’ Castiel moves over towards Jack, sitting where Lily was only moments ago. He holds his hand up and offers a little wave. Jack mimics him. “Hello,” he says, “my name is Castiel DiAngelo. And you’re Jack Kline?”

            “Yes.”

            He murmurs, “Good… good… still verbal.” Clearing his throat, Castiel holds his hand out, “It’s very nice to meet you.”

            “Likewise.” Jack has a firm handshake for a four-year old.

            “So… you like Batman?”

            “Yes. He’s my favorite superhero.”

            “I know a little about Batman,” Castiel tells him, “Dean taught me. He’s my fiancé – Dean Winchester, the man who handed you the hot chocolate?” At Jack’s nod, he continues. “He really loves Batman… I’m sure once he gets back you and he can have a wonderful conversation…” Castiel trails off, unsure of where to go. ‘ _Dean… I’m sure you’d know what to do._ ’

            He’s reminded of a time, not too long ago, when they watched Sam and Jess’s children. They were on babysitting duty to give the parents a little time to themselves. Harlow was curious and stubborn, her stubby legs driving her forward to explore the entirety of Dean and Castiel’s shared apartment. At least Dawson was stationary. But he had a loud voice that put their sound system to shame. No matter which kid Castiel was put in charge of, he always managed to screw up. Whether it was losing track of Harlow or nearly tripping with Dawson in his grip – Castiel couldn’t cut it. Dean, however, was able to take care of the children even without his help. At one point he watched Dean make lunch for Harlow, occupying her by having her list all the states alphabetically while bouncing Dawson to sleep in a Baby Bjorn strapped to his chest. ‘ _Dean was made to be a father…_ ’

            The fact that Jack left while he was stuck in his memories is further proof. Castiel’s heart leaps into his throat, only climbing back down when he finds Jack sitting in front of the TV. “You almost scared me,” he says.

            “You looked busy,” Jack says, staring up at the blank screen, “I didn’t want to disturb you.”

            “I’d prefer it if you did.” Castiel frowns, “Are you used to… not disturbing adults?”

            “My babysitter didn’t like a lot of noise. And whenever mommy would get home, she’d always tell me she needed to get her rest.” He breaks eye contact with the TV to look back at Castiel. “You seem nicer than Mrs. Hannigan or Mr. Patel. What’s mommy paying you?”

            “…She won’t be paying me, Jack.”

            “But you’re taking care of me?” Jack says, “Whenever mommy leaves, she always makes sure someone is there to take care of me. And when she gets back, she hands them money? Sometimes they complain – say it’s not enough for all the time they spent. If she’s not paying you, what is she going to give you when she gets back?”

            Castiel’s heart crumbles all the more. “She… Your mommy isn’t coming back, Jack.”

            He sees the flash of recognition shining in his young eyes. A light that doesn’t deserve to be there so young: an understanding of pain and loss. Kelly didn’t die alone – she passed alongside Jack’s innocence. “Right… Ms. Sunder told me that, too.”

            “Would you – would you like Batman?”

            He barely nods, lips trembling. Castiel grabs for the toy and joins Jack on the floor. Handing it to him, Jack crushes Batman in his arms, curling in on himself.

            “Jack?” Castiel asks, voice a soft whisper, “Jack, do you want to watch something?” He doesn’t respond. “I’ll find something… you like Batman, right? I’m sure I can find something on Netflix.” Castiel is grateful he convinced Dean to keep his TV in the move. His fiancé might be sentimental, but he can recognize better quality when he sees it. He opens the app and searches the Kids’ Animation section. “Ah – _Justice League_. I remember Dean showing me a few episodes. This has Batman in it, would you like to watch this?”

            “…Okay.”

            Castiel starts the show. He’s not paying attention, too focused on how Jack doesn’t watch either. His hand twitches, wanting to reach out, but unsure of how. They’re sitting side by side, but Castiel has never felt further from anyone in his life. And when that one needs him to be _there_ …

            It sucks.

* * *

            Dean collapses into bed right next to Cas at midnight. They had finished cleaning up their apartment, fixing up the guest room for Jack and putting everything away. “I can’t believe you bought so much, Dean,” Cas said to him, holding the ‘Chocoholic’ sweater in his hands.

            “What?” he asked, “ _You_ were the one who said we were keeping him –“

            “And you _agreed_.”

            “Shouldn’t we get a head start anyway? Besides, we can wrap some of the stuff I bought and give it to him for Christmas. Don’t want to overwhelm him _too_ much.” When Dean came back from his trip, Jack looked so frightened by the amount of bags Dean was carrying. He and Cas were on the floor, watching an old episode of the Justice League cartoon. And by the grim look on Cas’s face, it _wasn’t_ because he asked.

            “Still, I feel like we can return a few things…”

            Dean snorts. “Please _moneybags_. We can afford it – what with _your_ trust fund and the dough you rake in renting out your apartment.” When they first discussed moving, Cas told him he was impartial about which place they picked. While he wasn’t keen on staying in a place his folks bought for him, he’d understand if Dean would rather have a shorter commute to work. ‘ _Lucky him I spent too much time here to give up now_.’ “Besides, I thought that’s what all that money was for. _Emergencies_. And surprise children _count_ as emergencies.”

            Cas agrees with him. “And,” he adds, “with the short life Jack has led… maybe all the gifts would serve as a nice distraction.” Dean sighs, recalling all that Cas filled him in on.

            He relayed the tidbits that Jack threw to him while he was eating dinner. Dean silently thanked Ashley in his mind, as out of everything he bought, the dinosaur nuggets were what he looked most interested in. Jack only ate half of it – but he _ate_. It wasn’t long after that that the little guy started to droop, and Dean carried him to his bed. He tucked him in, watching as his chest rose and fall.

            Dean’s not sure how this might all end. He may have accepted Jack into his home, but he doesn’t think they have a chance of keeping him if Lily or anyone else finds out that Cas isn’t his dad. ‘ _Still_ ,’ he thought, smoothing the hairs back on his head, ‘ _I’ll do my best to keep him happy until that other shoe drops. After the rough start he’s had – he deserves it_.’

            “So…”

            “So…”

            Dean rolls his eyes. “What are we going to do tomorrow?”

            “I assume what we did today,” Cas tells him, “Help Jack settle in… get him used to our apartment. To the idea that he’ll be staying here.”

            He shifts uncomfortably at the suggestion. “Seems like the kid knows he ain’t going back to Kelly’s,” Dean says, “He’s a smart one. With the words he used even _I_ got to thinking he might _be_ your kid.”

            Cas huffs under his breath. “DiAngelo’s have a high aptitude for learning, Dean. And children are elastic – with the ability to absorb _so much_ information –“

            “See! Just like that!”

            “Dean,” he sighs, “you can be so obstinate…”

            “Y’know, he’s even got your pinched brow?” Dean chuckles, “Or is that another _DiAngelo_ trait?”

            His fiancé almost responds, but their reverie is shattered by a strangled cry. It’s followed by a few, louder sobs; shouts of ‘mommy, mommy’. They stare at each other for a beat before jumping out of bed, tripping over themselves in their race to Jack. Cas bursts through the door before him, Dean right behind.

            Jack squirms under the covers, thrashing about, calling for Kelly. Dean’s voice is caught in his throat, trapped by a sudden sadness. Cas is already by his side. “Jack! Jack – you need to calm down. It’s just a dream.” His words do nothing to ease his pain.

            Dean spurs to action. On the other side of Jack, he kneels down. “Jack,” he says soothingly, “Jack, it’s Dean. Cas is with me. We’re gonna need you to wake up – slowly, though. Don’t want you hurting yourself.” The younger boy’s eyelids flutter open. “That’s it… it was just a dream. You’re safe. You’re safe…”

            “Where’s mommy?”

            He pauses, glancing up at Cas. The other man stands there, frozen, still gaping at him. “Uh – your mommy isn’t… she isn’t _here_ , anymore Jack. But we are. Me and Cas…”

            Jack hiccups, tears streaming down his face. “I don’t… I don’t wanna be alone.”   

            “You’re not alone Jack. I’m here, and Cas is here, too. Right Cas?”

            This breaks whatever spell was over him. Cas follows Dean’s lead and kneels, awkwardly patting at Jack’s shoulder. “That’s right. We’re here, and we won’t leave your side.”

            “…You won’t?”

            “No,” Dean tells him, “We’ll be here all night, if you want. Would you like that Jack, for us to stay tonight?” Jack looks between the two warily, cheeks rosy, still hiccupping. “You can trust us, Jack,” he whispers, “We won’t let anything bad happen to you, not… not while you’re with us.”

            This convinces him. He nods, breathing smoothing out. “’Kay.”

            “Okay,” Dean says, “I’m not sure you can get to bed like this, though. You’re probably all worked up from all the tears… I know! How would you like a bedtime story?”

            Jack shows them a half-smile. “Can it be about Batman?”

            “It sure can.” Dean looks to Cas, “You can do Batman, can’t you Cas?”

            “ _Me_?”

            “Well your voice is all gravely and mysterious,” Dean chuckles, “you’d make a great Batman. Don’t you think Jack?”

            “Uh huh.” Dean knows he’ll cave. ‘ _Especially with how Jack’s batting his big ol’ doe eyes at him._ ’

            “All right,” Cas says, “I’ll be Batman. But… who will you be?”

            “Narrator… I got a southern twang so maybe Superman? Maybe we could make this a love story, though? I’m flexible like Catwoman… strong like Wonder Woman… _funny_ like the Flash –“

            “But not as fast,” Cas says, “Hurry up, you dork.”

            “Okay, okay… it was a dark and stormy night in Gotham City, and the bat signal was shining up in the sky…” Dean wove together a daring story, Jack hanging on every word. It didn’t take long for Cas to get into it, fully committing to his role as the Dark Knight. Dean and Jack were giggling at how deadpan he delivered his lines. They were nearing their climax, Batman confronting the Joker to save his love, when he’s interrupted by a light snore.

            Dean smirks at a sleeping Jack. “Guess Robin’ll have to wait for tomorrow to find out what happens… same Bat-time, same Bat-channel.” He’s chuckling softly to himself when he feels the warm gaze of Cas. Dean looks up at his fiancé to find him staring like he was the cookie with the most chocolate chips in it. “What?”

            “I love you,” he says, “so, so, so much.”

            “Not that I don’t love you, too but… what brought this on?”

            “You’re so good with him,” Cas tells him, “I… I didn’t know what to do. Not just now but earlier. You… you’re going to make a great dad.”

            Dean flushes at the compliment. “Aw hell, Cas… I’ve just had a lot of experience. You’ll get the hang of it, too… if we’re _lucky_.”

            “Dean…”

            “I know, I know… one day at a time. We’ll cross that bridge when we get there. Now… let’s get some sleep.”

            “On the floor?”

            “We promised we weren’t going to leave, weren’t we?” Cas doesn’t deny it. “Then we sleep on the floor. It’s called _sacrifice_ , Cas. Get used to it, because now that we’re parents it’ll be our middle names.” He ducks down on his side, stretching out and getting comfy. Dean tosses one arm up on the bed, swinging it over one of Jack’s legs. He smiles when Cas slips his hand in, their fingers twining together.

            “…Good night, Dean.”

            “Night, Cas.”


	3. Cuffed to a Wish

_December 20 th, 2022_

            Castiel has felt tired. In his early days with the force, he’d work a lot of night shifts. Sometimes Castiel would even get stuck with full twenty-four hour shifts – because he always requested the extra work. ‘ _It was better than being alone with my thoughts back then…_ ’ But he also knew weariness from pouring over cases, reading files and looking at clues even though his eyes burned from staying open too long. There was even a tired he felt before, when he’d sit in his apartment, look around, and realize no one would care if he died. Luckily he hasn’t felt like that in years.

            But parenting has exhausted him in ways he’s never known.

            Jack was a good kid, but very quiet. Half of his tiredness comes from trying to get him to open up. After the first day, he and Dean would take Jack on various trips outside. They visited parks, stores, and theaters. And at times Jack would offer a small smile. Except most of the time he preferred to frown. ‘ _No one should be unhappy around Christmastime_.’

            Except Dean was the only one who seemed to be doing anything effective. All the trips were his idea, Castiel following blindly on unsure footing. Every chance he had with Jack always felt stilted and awkward, no matter how hard he tried.

            When they had gotten back from a long outing the other day, it was dinnertime. “I’ll go put on some pasta or something,” Dean said, “why don’t you find a movie for him to watch?”

            “Which one?” he asked, “I feel like we’ve exhausted any and all Batman media that’s on Netflix.”

            “Anything kid friendly, Cas, they have a whole section.” He kissed him before moving towards the kitchen. Jack was already seated on the sofa, playing with his Batman and the Flash action figure Dean bought him.

            Castiel searched for a few minutes, unable to decide on a movie. Until he scrolled into the Disney section. ‘ _Of course_ ,’ he thought, ‘ _Disney. That’s kid friendly_.’ Working fast, he slides through titles until he stops on one. ‘ _Deers… this should be nice._ ’ Castiel clicks on it, joining Jack as the movie loads.

            And he was right. The first few minutes were beautiful paintings of a forest, with little creature scampering about. Castiel relaxed, leaning back in the sofa. It was a cute movie, in his defense, and Jack seemed interested. It wasn’t until Dean checked in did he learn what the problem was.

            “No!” Dean leapt to action, pausing the movie as Bambi starts prancing after the Prince of the Forest, “No no no no no. _Not_ this movie.” He glares at Castiel. “ _Angelface_ , can you come with me for a sec?” After making sure Jack would be okay, he followed his fiancé. “Can you explain to me why you thought _Bambi_ was a good movie choice for _Jack_?”

            “Because it looked calm and innocent and family friendly –“

            “Are you _kidding_?” he whispers, “Have you _never_ heard of Bambi?”

            “…No?”

            “Bambi’s mother _dies_.”

            Icy dread shoots up his spine. “She does?”

            “Yeah,” Dean says, “In the _next_ scene. You’re lucky I got here in time –“

            “I – I didn’t know. We never really _watched_ Disney growing up… kids love it, though?”

            “They _do_ , but for now let’s avoid Disney,” he tells him, “It goes hand in hand with dead moms. Just… put on some Scooby Doo or something. Pasta’s almost done anyway.”

            He felt terrible for the rest of the night. Even Jack ate more than him. Dean tried to comfort him later, apologizing for snapping, telling him that it was an honest mistake. His words brought no comfort.

            Castiel comes out of his reverie by a knock on the door. “Cas!” Dean calls from Jack’s room, “could you get that? Little busy in here…”

            “Okay!” He dries his hands, walking away from the dishes towards their entrance. Castiel racks his brain, trying to see if they ordered any more stuff for Jack. It wasn’t a delivery.

            “He’s alive!” Meg crows, Charlie launching herself across the threshold to hug him.

            “Meg? Charlie?” Castiel splutters, “What are – what are you doing here?”

            “Visiting?” Charlie says, “The thing you do with friends? Especially when they haven’t been _answering_ their _phones_?” Castiel flushes, recalling all the messages he’s been ignoring. They didn’t seem important when Jack needed him.

            He apologizes. “We’ve just been busy and – well, we can explain later. It might not be a good idea to be here –“

            “Because your place is a mess?” Meg asks, slouching into one of the armchairs. “We don’t care, Clarence, but –“ she picks up a stray action figure –“ this is a bit odd. Did a toy store explode in here?”

            Castiel almost answers, until Dean calls from the other room. “Cas? Who was it?”

            “Dean!” Charlie yells, “It’s your favorite lesbians! Why don’t you get your ass out here so we can talk about some shit –“

            Dean flies into the living room, clamping a hand over Charlie’s mouth. “ _Language_ , Charlie. Christ – did you swallow urbandictionary?”

            She muffles through a few choice words before Dean removes his hand. “What’s gotten into _you_? You curse worse than _me_!”

            “Toys, language,” Meg says, “it’s almost like you got a…” Her eyes focus somewhere behind Dean. “a _kid_?”

            Jack stands a few feet away, clutching his Batman toy to his chest. He’s in the pink plaid shirt and khakis, socked feet shuffled together in nervousness. Jack flicks his gaze between Charlie and Meg. “…Hello?”

            Charlie gapes at Jack for a beat, and then starts smacking Dean. “You –“ _smack_ “promised –“ _smack_ “no more making rushed decisions!” _smack smack smack_.

            “Hey! Hey – cool it!” He catches her blows, glaring. “If you’ll give me a sec I’ll fill you in – especially how this wasn’t _my_ judgment call.”

            “You mean it was his?” Meg jerks his thumb at Castiel. “Clarence, you do realize your track record with kids isn’t the best?”

            “…I’m _well_ aware.”

            Dean sighs. “Cas? Maybe take Jack into the kitchen for a snack while I deal with these two?”

            Castiel nods, walking over to Jack. He crouches down. “Jack? Would you like to come with me and have some cookies?”

            He doesn’t look at him. “…Okay, Mr. DiAngelo.”

            “Jack,” he says, “you don’t have to call me that. You can use ‘dad’.” Jack doesn’t respond. “Right… come along.” He gets up, reaching for Jack’s hand to guide him over to the kitchen. Setting him up on the counter, he digs for the Tupperware of cookies Dean whipped up yesterday.

            ‘ _Wish he’d call me anything besides Mr. DiAngelo…_ ’ Jack hasn’t called him or Dean anything besides their surnames, even though Castiel went through many efforts to change it.

            His fiancé didn’t mind. “It’s not the most important thing,” he said, “besides, if he ends up _not_ staying, it’ll make it easier for _all_ of us.” The defeat in his tone rubbed Castiel the wrong way, but by then Jack was awake, calling out to them. Dean left the bed to attend to him.

            Jack eats two cookies before Castiel brings him back into the room. Charlie wipes at her eyes while Meg soothes her, mascara equally smudged. Dean looks away awkwardly. He clears his throat. “Meg? Charlie? Would you like to meet Jack?”

            “Would we?” Charlie asks, laughing through the watery lump in her throat. She stands, hopping over to them. “Hi there Jack! I’m your new aunt, Charlie. And Miss ‘Won’t Show Emotions’ is Meg.”

            “Hello Miss Charlie, Miss ‘Won’t Show Emotions.”

            Dean barks out a laugh, quieting only when Meg punches him in the shoulder. “Please, if you’re gonna call me Miss Anything make it Miss Masters.”

            “Okay, Miss Masters.”

            “He sure is a polite kid,” Charlie says, looking to Castiel. “We’re going to have to fix that!” She snatches Jack from his hands, carrying him over to the others. “Now, Dean told me you like Batman…” 

* * *

 

            They fell into their roles as parents even faster than they did a couple. At least, Dean did. ‘ _Cas looks like he’s been stumbling down step by step_.’ Not that he doesn’t mind picking up the slack. ‘ _It’s nice taking care of someone again…_ ’

            Dean has had a paternal streak going as far back as he could remember. Growing up, Sam used to say he always had three parents; two at home, and Dean whenever they made it to school. He didn’t mind looking out for Sam, it’s not like many other kids his age were foaming at the mouth to hang out with him. Although he’s also tough enough to admit sometimes he went a little ‘overboard’ protecting him.

            So he transferred his skills from Sam to little kids across the neighborhood: babysitting whenever he needed some extra money. Between that and picking up shifts at his dad’s garage, he never needed to ask for money. Dean was so good with children, he even nearly considered pursuing the early education track.

            Now, he looks after Jack as he would any child dropped into his protection. But he treats him less like his own son, and more like one of the many he’s been assigned to watch. ‘ _Just waiting for when someone will take him from me…_ ’ he thinks, glumly. ‘ _Get it together, Winchester, don’t frown. Not here._ ’

            After Charlie and Meg had left, with promises to swing by with a few _more_ presents for Jack, their little family of three finally moseyed their way over to the activity for the day: visiting Santa. It was Cas’s idea. They were putting on their coats. “I think it would be nice. Kids like Santa Claus… and Jack _is_ a kid.”

            “Powerful observational skills there, Angelface.”

            “ _Dean…_ ”

            “No, I like it. It’s sweet.” He plants a loud, wet smooch on Cas’s cheek. “ _You’re_ sweet.”

            Although if he knew how long the line was he would have suggested something else. ‘ _Nah_ ,’ he thinks, watching Jack hop excitedly in place, ‘ _This’ll be worth it_.’ Another kid steps up to greet the jolly old man, and they inch ever so closer.

            “Did you know, Dean,” Cas says, glued to his phone, “that Santas learn sign language when training so as to understand the Christmas wishes of hearing impaired children?”

            Dean notices the girl in front of them who’s been staring at them for the past half-hour while resting in her mother’s arms tilt her head. He knocks his elbow into Cas’s side. “It’s so great that _Santa_ learned sign language before stopping by our mall.”

            “No, Dean. It’s a requirement for anyone hired to –“

            “ _Ixnay_ on the _Antassay_ ,” he hisses, “you don’t want to be known as the _assbutt_ who ruined Santa, do you?”

            Cas glares at him. “I don’t know whether to reprimand you for your curse, or be glad you recognize it as one.”

            “It isn’t, that’s why I’m _using_ it.”

            “How dare you.” They take another step forward in line. “At the time, it was the best I could come up with.”

            “There are ten different words – off the top of my head – that I _know_ you could have used.”

            “Not all of us are as well versed in the art of profanity as you are.” The little girl in front of them is placed on Santa’s lap, the Indian man playing him greeting her with a hearty ‘Ho, Ho, Ho!’ “It doesn’t matter, get your phone out. We need pictures.”

            Dean shifts on his feet. “You sure, Cas?”

            “Yes – Jack will want to remember this years later.”

            ‘ _If he’s with us for that long._ ’ Photos have a powerful energy to them, something he thinks Cas should be well aware of. Especially all they struggled with years ago around Christmastime. Some days during the months after Cas ended their arrangement, Dean would catch a glimpse of the stack that he and Cas made. And an incredible sadness would seep into him, weighing him down. But every time he’d work up the courage to hold them all over the trashcan, he’d return them to his shelf. Glad that he could still feel that strongly for something that should have only been a blip in his life. ‘ _Will we feel like that when Lily takes him from us?_ ’ he thinks, readying his phone. ‘ _Could we stand it? Unlike our relationship, we can’t just explain to the **government** this was an honest mistake…_’

            “Next!”

            Cas leads Jack over towards Santa, Dean right behind. Jack is hoisted up onto Santa’s lap, the man laughing. “Now what is your name, little boy?”

            “Jack. Jack Kline,” he holds his tiny hand out to him, “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Claus. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

            “Wow… I mean – what a grown-up boy you are.” He shakes once, dropping Jack’s hand as fast as he grabbed it. “Now, Jack, what is it you want for Christmas?”

            He doesn’t answer right away. Instead he toys with his Batman figure, tugging at his cape. Santa looks to it. “That’s a nice Batman you have there… maybe he needs a new set of wheels?”

            Cas nods, saying, “Would you like that Jack?”

            He glances at Cas, then Dean, and finally back up at Santa. “It would but… you can do _anything_ can’t you?”

            Santa shrugs. “I haven’t had any complaints yet. Tell ol’ Santa what you want…”

            Jack sighs. “Well… I was wondering if you could bring my mommy back to me?”

            “…What?”

            Dean bites back a curse, powerless to stop Jack. “I’ve been told that she’s left and she’s never coming back… but if you said you can do anything?” There’s so much hope in his eyes, brighter than any of the lights decorating the little Christmas village. “If anyone could do it, it’s you. I’m sure she misses me a lot.” He hears one of the nearby elves choke out a low sob, her hand held tight over her mouth.

            “Jack,” Cas starts, stricken with sad horror, “When Santa said he can do anything…”

            A white-gloved hand stops him. “It’s okay,” he tells Cas, never looking away from Jack. “I’m sorry,” he says, “I can’t bring back your mommy Jack. Because she’s already here.”

            “She is?” Jack squirms in his lap, searching the crowds.

            Santa keeps him seated. “I mean… she’s _here_ –“ he points to his chest –“ and in _here_ –“ to his head. “She can never _truly_ be gone, Jack.”

            “I… I don’t understand.”

            “I’m sure your dads can help you out, can’t they?”

            Cas spurs back into action. “Of course,” he says, grabbing for Jack, “Come on, Jack.”

            “What did he mean, Mr. DiAngelo?”

            “Well… what he was saying…” Dean tunes them out, too embarrassed to pay attention to anything but the sad looks on Santa and his crew. He stuffs his phone into his pocket, striding over to them.

            “I am… I’m _so_ sorry,” he tells Santa, “He recently lost his mom and – and we’ve only had him with us for a few days. We didn’t think to ask what he was going to wish for before –“

            “A few days?” Santa asks, “Looks like _I_ came _early_.”

            “No foolin’.”

            “Listen,” the man pulls down his beard, whispering, “Jack isn’t the first kid who I’ve had ask to bring back a loved one. Children have wanted me to revive old pets, bring parents back from overseas, and even have friends move back. I bet there’ll be five more kids before the day ends that will be asking for something like Jack did.”

            “Really?”

            “Yes, it’s normal for kids to do this kind of thing. You and your husband are handling it better than some of the other parents.”

            “…Thanks.” He almost leaves. “Hey, Santa, since Jack didn’t really _get to_ …” Dean trails off, unable to finish.

            He doesn’t have to. Santa fixes his beard back onto his face. “And what do _you_ wish for this Christmas?”

            “I… I just want Jack to have the best Christmas of his damned life.”

            Santa smiles. “I’m sure _that_ wish will come true…” He glances somewhere behind Dean. “And from what I’m seeing, it might be sooner than you think.” Dean follows his gaze over to where Cas stands, Jack in his arms. They’re talking in low, hushed tones. But from how Jack beams up at the other man, it’s safe to say it’s nothing bad.

            Dean knows photos have the power to hurt as much as heal. He still takes one, of Cas and Jack, like how they are now. There’s a chance Dean is wrong. That they’ll be looking back on this with Jack when he’s grown, and they’ll laugh. But he’s never been one to think of the snow cone as anything more than half-melted. ‘ _We’ve used up a lot of our good luck… and this ain’t anything like a holiday special._ ’

            “I really hope so,” he says, though, “I really do.” 

* * *

 

            Castiel wants to drift off. It’d be easy to do so, with the weight of the blanket over his legs, and the warmth of Dean’s arm over his shoulders and Jack’s body nestled between his and Dean’s on the couch. He doesn’t though, excitement over the picturesque family moment bubbling over.

            “C’mon, Cas, this can’t be _that_ good.”

            Dean’s frowning at him, in direct contrast to his own wide grin. _The Christmas Prince 6: Christmas Reunion_ plays in the background. After returning from the mall, laden with even more bags, they set up a little cocoon in their living room. Castiel brought in the blankets and pillows while Dean made hot cocoa and cookies for all of them. “Dessert for dinner only _once_ ,” he said, “This isn’t going to be a regular thing.” He was ignored as Jack chomped down on one of the cookies and Castiel searched for a holiday movie.

            ‘ _We really scraped the bottom of the barrel on this one…_ ’ “It’s not because of the movie, Dean,” Castiel tells him, “It’s… _this_. I think I’m… _high_ off of parenting?”

            “Nah, you’re much more _mellow_ and less _manic_ when you get high.”

            He snorts. “No, I mean… this all feels good. _Natural_. That maybe we can be parents. That I… that I can be a _dad_.”

            “Cas…” Dean sighs, scratching at the hairs along his nape, “There was nothing stopping you from being a dad before.”

            “We both know I was awful.”

            “You weren’t _that_ bad –“

            “Compared to you, I was like one of those dads you see on bad sitcom television. I had no idea what I was doing.”

            “No one does, Cas,” Dean says, “Parenting is all about response. Reading a situation and coming up with the best answer with what you have. Sometimes you… get in your own head. There’s nothing wrong with that. Took me a while to figure all this out, of course you’ll stumble in the beginning.”

            “But I think I’m finally coming out of it.” He thinks back to earlier, at the mall after their Santa visit. “Today might be a turning point.”

            Dean smiles, almost sadly. “You handled it all really well. But… I gotta know. What did you say to Jack?”

            Castiel looks down at Jack; unshed tears shining in his eyes over how comfortable he looks. “I did as you said. I read the situation and gave Jack the best answer I could think of… Explained to him what Santa meant. That Kelly will always be with him – with us – as long as he still loves her and remembers her. She’ll never truly be gone because she lives on in him…” It was a sweet moment they shared, Castiel finally feeling capable at a time where Jack needed someone. He was glad to do so, to show not only Jack nor Dean, but also _himself._ How when it matters, he _can_ be there.

            “…You totally stole that from Lion King, didn’t you?”

            “What? No, I – I came up with that on my own!”

            “It’s okay if you did, it totally works.”

            “Dean, you know I haven’t watched _any_ Disney movie except the ones you’ve shown me.”

            “Your family didn’t take you to see the play? I’d think Broadway would make it seem classier.”

            “You know my parents well enough to draw your own conclusions as to _why_ we never saw that one.”

            “…Really? Wow, I somehow hate them even more than I thought I could.”

            “And I fall even deeper in love with you, dork.”

            “Can it, Angelface, we know that’s not possible.”

            They bicker and laugh together as the movie plays. When it ends, they don’t notice, still lost in each other’s orbit. As they succumb to sleep, they’re the last things each other see before closing their eyes. Hands joined together, resting over where Jack has his clasped together on his Batman.


	4. Cuffed to Jack

_December 24, 2018_

            Dean drowns in a sea of wrapping paper. To his left lie the fruits of his labor, presents neatly wrapped to perfection for his friends, family, and mostly Jack. To his left wait the rest of the gifts that he still needs to wrap. ‘ _Downed by my own hubris_ ,’ he thinks, ‘ _why did I put this off for so long?_ ’ The answering giggle from the other room tells him exactly what delayed and expounded his duties.

            Jack and Cas watch another movie together in the living room. He volunteered to keep Jack busy so as to not sneak peeks at his presents. “It’s not like I’m much help anyway,” Cas said, “No one seems to be happy when they receive the presents I wrapped.”

            “It’s not they’re not happy, Angelface, it’s just they know _exactly_ who wrapped them.” His fiancé’s fingers, while nimble in certain areas, don’t extend this prowess outside the bedroom. Whenever he tries to wrap gifts, they have uneven folds, rough edges, and when he gets too fed up, are twisted at the ends like a Tootsie Roll.

            It’s why Dean has gotten a card from him three years in a row.

            “At this point I’m ready to twist the ends myself…” he mutters, glaring at the huge pile. There’s another bout of laughter, which irks the fire inside of him. ‘ _Be glad, Dean. It’s been days since you’ve heard him do that…_ ’

            After Jack’s visit with Santa, Dean expected something to be different. ‘ _Not a complete one-eighty but maybe like a twenty-five degree turn in the right direction?_ ’ But that day was just a blip in their time together, and he crawled back into his shell.

            It hurt Cas more than it did, Dean; the other man thinking that Jack would be much more accepting of them as parents.

            He still didn’t call them anything but their surnames. Jack wasn’t as lively as the other kids in the places they took him, too. Whenever other kids tried to play with them, he’d ignore them, content to spent time with his Batman, having whispered conversations with it.

            “Jack still has a lot to process,” Cas said, yesterday in bed, “In the papers Lily gave us, it says that it could be months before he’s back to normal.”

            “We don’t even know what his normal is, Cas,” Dean said, “Maybe he’s just not a social kid?”

            “Well, then we’ll have to wait and see –“

            “Wait and see for how long? What if he’s not here by the time he’s ready to go back to how he was? Won’t that just hurt him worse?”

            “ _Dean_.” Cas’s tone lowered and became even gravellier. As if his voice was shredded in a glass storm. “I thought we put an end to this discussion?”

            “You did. How you can’t think about this beats the hell out of me.”

            “Because I know it isn’t going to happen.”

            Dean had wanted to push the issue that night. But could tell by how icy Cas’s eyes had gotten that it’d blow up in his face. He turned over, flicking the lamp off. “Night, Cas.”

            That shard of annoyance was still lodged in Dean’s chest. At how calm Cas was acting, how readily he thought Lily and the government were going to hand Jack over to them. ‘ _Like we didn’t have to fight for everything we’ve ever had_ …’ There’s so many ways this could end poorly for all of them, and Dean has spent time over analyzing every single scenario.

            Cas chooses to walk in at this moment.

            “Dean,” he asks, “did you put any more cookies on?”

            He shoots his fiancé a dark look. “You two ate them _all_?”

            Cas doesn’t meet his stare. “…We _are_ DiAngelos, remember?”

            “Oh I remember…”

            He pauses, finally turning to face him. “Is something wrong, Dean?”

            “Is something wrong?” He barks out a laugh. “No – no why would it? We’re just the perfect all-American family here… although I haven’t seen Sparky in a few days. Have you seen the dog, Cas?”

            “…You know we don’t have a dog, Dean…” Cas steps closer, putting a hand against his forehead. “Are you well? Do you need to take a nap –“

            “I’m not sick!” He swats Cas away, “But I am tired.”

            “If you need to take a break I’m sure this can wait –“

            “No, I’m not… it’s not like that…” ‘ _I’m gonna regret this…_ ’ “How can you do this, Cas?”

            “I’m… not sure what you mean?”

            “Eat cookies with him… sit there like this is… like this is any other day!”

            “Dean,” Cas hisses at him, “volume down.”

            “I’m sorry, I just…” He pushes up from his seat, pacing the room. “I know you want to do right by Jack – I do, _too_. But… I don’t think we should be getting too attached to him.”

            Cas moves back, eyes wide in shock and fury. “He… he’s our _son_ , Dean.”

            “Not really!” Dean says, “We’ve still got a mountain of paper work ahead of us… and one day Lily or someone could ask you to pee in a cup or spit on a cotton swab and where will that put us! With no claim over Jack… they’ll take him and it’ll _hurt_. More if we keep going down this path.”

            “You keep talking about how _I_ can act like this, Dean. Well, I put the same question to you.”

            “What?”

            “After all we’ve been through with Jack, how can you still feel this way?” he asks, “I know it’s only been a short time… but didn’t it take only a few weeks for you and I to fall in love with each other?”

            “That’s different, Cas,” Dean tells him, “The only idiots we had to go up against were each other. And even then that took us a longer ass time than it should have. With Jack… we have an easier chance at getting our hearts crushed.”

            “But the reward outweighs the risk, Dean,” Cas says, pleading with him, “We could have a wonderful life together as a family, for a _long_ time. I want to raise Jack _with_ you. I think this could be a great chance for us…”

            “I… it’s not like I never thought about this, Cas,” he confesses, “I think we’d make awesome parents. I only want it to be a sure bet, though. When we have a good chance of pulling this off.”

            Cas growls, snatching Dean’s hands in his, “There are no sure bets in life, Dean. All we can do is work hard to hold onto what we have _now_. And I’m _not_ letting go of Jack. Not now, not _ever_. Will you?”

            Dean gulps at the intensity of Cas’s gaze. He turns. “I… I don’t think you’ll like my answer…”

            His fiancé frowns, gently dropping his hands. “I don’t know what else to do to convince you.”

            “…I don’t know either.”

            “I… Jack’s probably wondering where I am,” he says, slinking back, “I promised we’d start the next movie after I got our snack.”

            Dean tilts his head towards the cabinets. “There’re Entemen’s. Not the best but… they’ll do.”

            “…Thank you.” He doesn’t look up as Cas goes to take them. His knuckles whiten as he tightens his grip on the back of his chair, shaking with all the fear and sadness he suppressed for so long, now bubbling to the surface. It only worsens the more he stares at the Lego play set he bought for Jack.

            Cas isn’t gone for long. Barely a beat passes before he’s running back into the room. “He’s gone!”

            “What?” He gets whiplash from how fast his head swings up.

            “He’s not on the couch –“

            “Did you check his room? Our room?”

            “No –“

            “Then go!” He sweeps Cas out of the room, sending him off towards their room while he takes Jack’s. “Jack!” he shouts, “Where are you?” Jack isn’t in either room, or any other one in their apartment.

            “Dean?” Cas stands by the door, “Dean, come over here.”

            “What is it?”

            “I… I didn’t lock the door –“

            “You didn’t?”

            “No! After the deliveryman dropped off our packages, I must have forgotten. Do you think?”

            Dean rolls his eyes. “Well if he’s not here, of course!” He grabs for their jackets, tossing Cas his before shrugging on his own. “He can’t have gotten far. The doorman wouldn’t let a kid out without supervision – “

            “Not if it’s Jim,” Cas says, right behind him, “I swear, the man could sleep through an explosion. Jack could slip by easily.”

            “Let’s hope for Herman then. I _know_ he’d stop Jack before he could get close to the doors.” Cas closes the door behind them, and they trip over themselves in their haste down the hallway.

            They don’t far when they run into one of their neighbors. She’s a frail-looking woman, with orange hair and a purple shawl over her shoulders. “Sorry, Mrs. O’Leary,” Dean apologizes, trying to scoot past her, “but we’re in a bit of a hurry.”

            “Not a problem,” she says, handing over a plastic bag stuffed with groceries, “I’ll only be a second…”

            “Dean…” Cas whispers, “Can’t you just –“

            “Oh, another one! My old bones aren’t what they used to be like.” She forces a second bag into Cas’s hands, key shaking in her grip. Dean squirms uncomfortably, trying to make the older woman move faster with his mind. She ignores the suggestion, instead chuckling to herself. “You fellas won’t believe the day I’ve had…”

            “Mrs. O’Leary, we’re really in a rush –“

            “Seems like everyone’s on edge for the holiday. And the strangest things, I mean, just a few minutes ago this little boy was waiting for the elevator.”

            “Can you – wait, _what_ little boy?”

            “A young one; couldn’t have been taller than my knee… and the most polite little fella. Waited until I was off before getting in.”

            Dean crowds around her, Cas at his side. “Did you see where he was going?”

            “Well, I don’t know –“

            “Please, Mrs. O’Leary,” Cas says, “it’s very important for you to remember.”

            “I – yes, why I think I saw the elevator tick up! The numbers were growing…”

            “Thank you Mrs. O’Leary, thank you!” Dean kisses her on the cheek, handing her bag back to her and running over to the elevators.

            He hears Cas behind him. “Let me… there, it’s open! Happy Holidays!” Dean presses the button repeatedly while Cas catches up. “So, what’s the plan?”

            “We don’t have that many floors to search. We do the best we can, going up and up.”

            “And what if Mrs. O’Leary is wrong –“

            “Let’s not think about that.”

            “Oh, now you’re a positive thinker?”

            The elevator dings. They get on. “Seriously? You’re bringing that up now?”

            “You’re right, I’ll wait until Jack is back with us before continuing our argument.”

            “…Thanks.”

            The search takes longer than they would have liked. Dean and Cas check each floor as thoroughly as they can, questioning any residences they happen upon in their panic. With each floor the terror sets in deeper and deeper. They’re nearing the top floor when Dean thinks, ‘ _What if we can’t find him? What if we do and he’s scared? This won’t look good to Lily at all…_ ’

            After spending ten minutes on the top floor, Cas shuffles back over to Dean. “He’s not here, either.”

            “Well, where else could he be?”

            “I don’t know, Dean,” Cas huffs, sarcastically, “the _roof_?” Dean turns to him, gaping. Cas mirrors him. “The roof…”

            They fly over towards the stairs, bounding up the flights, and out into the inky night. Snow falls all around, coating everything in a fine white powder. Dean scans the area, heart squeezed too tight. When he spots a red, puffy jacket a few feet away, the claws cease tearing into him. He nudges Cas. “Look.”

            Jack stares up into the sky, his back to both of them.

            Cas sighs in relief. “Oh thank God…” He and Dean start moving over towards Jack. But then he hears Jack’s soft voice, and Dean stops in his tracks. He holds an arm out, halting Cas as well. “Dean, what –?”

            “Shush…”

            Jack’s voice is clear in the silence. “…I know, Batman, mommy’s missing all the snow. You remember how much she loves it. Whenever she could, she’d take us out to the park and we’d build snowmen and sled and throw snowballs all over. You aren’t that helpful in a fight, but you made a good look-out…”

            Cas leans in close to him. “What is he doing?”

            “He’s… he’s talking with his toy?”

            Another beat goes by. “Yeah, but it’s like Mr. DiAngelo said. Mommy isn’t really gone – she exists in both of us! In our hearts and our heads… Although mommy’s too big to fit, so I’m not really sure what he was talking about –“ Jack giggles – “…They sure are weird, Batman. But they’re really nice? Mr. DiAngelo and Mr. Winchester remind me of mommy with how well they take care of me. …Really? You should know – you’ve been there almost as long as I have! When mommy brought you home, I was so happy. We’d play… and when mommy wasn’t away or having her special ‘mommy’ time, she’d join – and it’d be so fun!” Jack sighs. “She always did like you… said you reminded her of someone. Told me that you were a true hero because you didn’t have any powers, but because you cared about others and even if you were human, you still looked out for them. That you would look out for _me_. Mommy said you loved me, too.”

            Jack goes quiet after that. Dean’s cheeks are raw and frozen, the tears flowing down his face like a faucet stream. He blindly searches for Cas’s hand, holding onto it tight when he finds it.

            He starts up again. “You wanna know something, Batman? I think Mr. Winchester and Mr. DiAngelo love me? I think they love me as much as mommy does. When Ms. Sunder said mommy was gone I… I thought you’d be the only one who’d love me. And that one of my old babysitters would have to watch me all the time. But now I have two more people who love me! Isn’t that nice? I think it is…”

            Dean sobs. He can’t control it as he lets out a low sound, echoing across the rooftop. Jack turns, eyes lighting up when he sees them. “Hi Mr. Winchester! Mr. DiAngelo!”

            “Jack…” In one second the younger boy is all he can see, and Dean scoops him into his arms, squeezing him. “Jack! Oh, Jack – why did you come up here?”

            “I saw it was snowing from the window,” he says, “And I wanted to see. Should I… should I not have done that?”

            “It doesn’t matter now, Jack,” Dean tells him, “You’re safe. That’s all we care about. You’re safe and you’re here with us.”

            Cas snakes his arms around them, then, making a sandwich with Jack as the filling. “Yes, Jack,” he says, “We’re so glad nothing happened to you.”

            “Really?”

            “Really,” Cas nods, “We love you so much –“ he glances at Dean – “don’t we?”

            “So, so much,” he kisses Jack on the head, “Love you so much, Jack.” Dean means it. Watching Jack confess his thoughts to Batman and the snowflakes stirred something within him. A desire to protect Jack, to make sure nothing bad ever happens to him, for the rest of his life. To fight for him, and always be there when he needs someone in his corner. It was in that instant Dean knew that no matter what challenges they faced in the future; he would do it to keep Jack in their lives. ‘ _No one’s getting between me and **my** boy._’ “God, Jack… I’m never letting go.”

            It’s a beautiful moments. Snow falling all around them, their little family cocooned in the warmth and fire of love. But Cas ruins it with a snort and a chuckle.

            “What is it?”

            “Sorry it’s just… did you quote the Titanic?”

            “What?”

            “’I’m never letting go, Jack’? That’s from the Titanic.”

            “No – no I was… I was quoting you!”

            “I didn’t say it like that…”

            “Could you – I am not having this discussion on the roof of our building.”

            “Yes, we wouldn’t want to freeze now would we?”

            “…You’ve seen the Titanic but _nothing_ from Disney? I call bull…”

            It’s a long while before they’re back in the comfort of their home. But for now, Dean is happy bickering with his fiancé, their son in their arms, with winter on full blast all around them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, Y'ALL, I don't usually tear up while writing fics but DEAR GOD I cried over Jack's little speech at the end.
> 
> Like DAMN.


	5. Cuffed to Dads

            Jack watches the outside world blur in a mix of whites and blues from his car seat. Holding Batman up to the window, they gape at all the other cars and buildings they pass. He hears Mr. Winchester chuckle from in front. “You like that, Jack?” he asks, “You want me to go _faster_?”

            There’s a light _smack_ , and Mr. DiAngelo says, “You stay at the speed limit and don’t go _above_ it.”

            It’s the first time Jack’s been inside a car for this long. Mommy didn’t own one, and whenever Mr. Winchester or Mr. DiAngelo needed to take him somewhere, it was always a short ride. This was different.

            “We’re going to be visiting some new people, Jack,” Mr. Winchester said to him, fixing his jacket, “You’ll like them, and they’ll _love_ you.” He wasn’t that excited to meet anyone else, but while Mr. Winchester was talking to him, he noticed Mr. DiAngelo sneaking gifts past him and out the door.

            “Are those for me?”

            Mr. Winchester followed his gaze, flushing. “Uh – yeah. They’re for when you get to Sam’s house. Remember how I told you that you still had a few more presents? Those are them.”

            Jack remembered. When he woke up on Christmas, he was expecting Santa to drop off the usual three or four toys he always did. That wasn’t the case this time. “Santa wanted you to know you’ve been an _extra_ special boy this year,” Mr. DiAngelo said, “and reward you for being so strong.” He was exhausted by the time he finished tearing at the wrapping paper, lost in a sea of reds, greens, and golds.

            He looked back to Mr. Winchester. “And I can open them when I get there?”

            “Yeah. Yes you will.”

            “Okay.”

            Someone clears their throat. Jack looks away from the window, finding Mr. DiAngelo, his neck craned as far back as it could so he could face him. “We’re almost there, Jack. Would you like to bring any other toys inside besides Batman?”

            He glances over towards the small pile that lies next to him. Jack played with them at first, enjoying crafting stories and adventures for Batman and his friends. ‘ _They’re all tuckered out, now. They need rest –_ “ he clutches tighter to the figure in his hands – “ _not Batman though. He never rests._ ’ “Just Batman.”

            “All right, I’ll put your other toys under the seat, then.”

            “Cas, it’s a safe neighborhood –“

            “You never know, Dean. You said Sam was dealing with a porch thief, right?”

            “But on Christmas?”

            “Crime doesn’t stop on holidays,” Mr. DiAngelo says, locking eyes with Jack, “Wouldn’t Batman want us to be safe, Jack?”

            “He would!”

            “Fine,” Mr. Winchester sighs, “using Batman against me… total di – _detective_ move…”

            “Well if the private eye fits…”

            Mr. Winchester pulls them down a street, parking between two larger cars. “Gas guzzlers… don’t they have any idea what they’re doing to the environment?”

            “Dean, Baby has just as bad a carbon footprint.”

            “But at least she has style! These things are total eyesores.” He turns to Jack, “Don’t you think so Jack? You like Baby?”

            He finds it weird how Mr. Winchester talks about his car. Mommy used to do the same with her coffee pot. And Mr. Patel did it with his golf clubs. Jack asked his mommy about that. “When people do that,” she told him, “it means they really love whatever they’re talking about. Personifying the object – treating it like they’re another person.”

            “You must really love coffee, then, mommy.”

            “I do,” she giggled, pressing feather-light kisses all across Jack’s crown, “but not as much as I love you, my angel.”

            Jack nods. “I think she’s pretty.”

            Baby revs at the compliment, Jack shrieking in delight at the surprise. Mr. DiAngelo shakes his head. “…Dean.”

            “Lighten up, Cas – it’s _Christmas!_ ” He gets out, moving over to unbuckle Jack from his seat while Mr. DiAngelo hides Jack’s things. “It’s Christmas Jack,” Mr. Winchester says, hefting him up in his arms, “It’s Christmas!”

            Jack cheers with him, clapping as best he can with Batman still in one hand. Mr. DiAngelo watches them from across the car roof, leaning on it, shaking his head.

            “Come on,” he says, walking over to wrap his arm around Mr. Winchester’s waist, “We’re already late as it is.”

            They head over towards a grey, two-story house, decorated in an obscene amount of Christmas decorations. There’s an inflatable Santa and plastic reindeer scattered about the snow-dusted lawn. Boughs of branches weave between the rungs on the porch and hang over the awning. On the door sits a gold-and-red bowed wreath. Jack is struck by the wonder of it al.

            “Well you told him we were going to be late,” Mr. Winchester says, “I can’t wait to see the look on his face… by the way, how’d he take it when you told him _why_?”

            “I… what?” Mr. DiAngelo stops them. “Why? I thought you would…”

            “I would what?”

            “You mean you didn’t tell them –“

            “Of course not, I thought I’d leave it up to you!”

            “He’s your _brother_! They’re _your_ family!”

            “They’re your family _too_ , Mr. ‘ _Let-Me-Take-Your-Last-Name_ ’!”

            “Oh, and you’d want to be known as Mr. Dean DiAngelo?”

            “…Fair point.”

            “Look,” he sighs, “This… isn’t bad. It’s just another surprise. I mean, at this point they should expect us to do something without telling them around this time of year.”

            “A fake relationship is one thing, Cas,” Mr. Winchester says, bouncing Jack around, “There’s nothing _fake_ about this.”

            “Which makes it even better,” Mr. DiAngelo smiles, kissing Mr. Winchester on the lips. Jack turns away, squealing at the sight. “Even you will admit this is going to be a Christmas no one will forget.”

            “…Yeah… you think Ma’s gonna faint?”

            “If she doesn’t she’ll be crying so much we’ll drown before lunch.”

            “Okay,” Mr. Winchester repositions Jack; carrying on their way, “let’s do this.” They reach the door, with Mr. DiAngelo ringing the doorbell.

            Jack hears footsteps on the other side of the door, and a “Finally! What took you so long –“ It swings open, and Jack buries his head into Mr. Winchester’s neck, face rubbing up against the Sherpa lining of his jacket. “Dean… Cas… what are…”

            “Surprise!” Mr. Winchester says, his voice a comforting rumble to Jack. “You’re a… you’re an _uncle_ , Sammy!”

            “Uncle?” The voice hisses out, “You mean – you mean he’s _yours_?”

            Mr. DiAngelo hums. “Jack,” he says to him, “Jack, why don’t you meet Sam. He may look intimidating, but he’s nothing but a jolly giant.”

            Jack peeks one eye out, nearly burrowing back in when he sees Sam for himself. ‘ _He’s not green. Aren’t jolly giants supposed to be **green**?’_

            “This is my brother,” Mr. Winchester says, “Sam Winchester. Why don’t you say ‘Hi’ Jack?”

            He doesn’t move, even as the other man bends his head down for Jack to get a better look. His head is decorated with antlers, and that’s where he fixes his attention.

            “You like them, huh?” Sam says, “yeah, that’s right. I’m just like a –“

            “Moose.”

            “What?”

            Jack points to the antlers. “You look like a _moose_.”

            Mr. Winchester snorts out a laugh, resting his cheek against Jack’s head. “I swear, Sammy, I didn’t even teach him that. Kid must _know_.”

            “Shut up,” Sam says, face red, “I can’t believe you two, anyway. Would it _kill_ either of you to pick up the phone and _call_?”

            “In our defense, we thought we did,” Mr. DiAngelo says, “Is everybody else here?”

            “Yeah, yeah… and don’t think the little guy’s gonna make it okay. Jo doesn’t care about cuteness when she’s _hungry_.”

            “Cravings?”

            “You think she’d have given birth already with how much she’s swelled,” Sam says, “but the doctors say she’s still got another month.”

            “Kid must have Mick’s big head,” Mr. Winchester winces, “Hope she has the best epidural insurance can buy.”

            “Sam?” A voice from deeper inside calls out, “What’s taking so long? Get in here!”

            “Might as well get this over with,” Sam says, leading them in, “You know where to put the coats. Do you want me to stall or…?”

            Mr. DiAngelo hands his jacket to Mr. Winchester, Jack already back on the ground. “I’ll come with you. There are a few things I would like to say before we introduce Jack to everybody.” They leave Jack with Mr. Winchester.

            He hangs Mr. DiAngelo’s jacket up before doing the same with his own. Then he leans down to help Jack with his. “See, Jack,” he says, “you’re doing such a great job already. Right now Cas – _shoot_ , I mean _dad_ – is making sure everything’s all set before _daddy_ introduces you to the rest of the family.”

            “Are they all as tall as Mr. Winchester?”

            He smirks. “I thought _I_ was Mr. Winchester?”

            “You’re brothers,” Jack shrugs, “you’re both Mr. Winchester… but that can get _confusing_.”

            “Can it?”

            “I don’t have to call him Mr. Winchester,” Jack says, “I can call him Mr. Sam…”

            Mr. Winchester’s expression falls. Jack notices before he sweeps his disappointment under a wide smile. “You could… or Mr. Moose. He might like that…”

            ‘ _Maybe… or I could…_ ’ “Or I could just call you daddy?”

            Daddy pauses, Jack’s coat falling out of his hands; he breathes out a “What?”

            “Daddy,” Jack says it again. “Isn’t… isn’t that what you and Mr. Di – _dad_ wanted?”

            “Yes! Yes – I mean…” he mumbles, barely looking Jack in the eye, “But only if _you_ want to say it. We’re not going to force you to… only when you’re comfortable.”

            Jack’s face hurts from the smile stretching across his too-small cheeks. “I’ve never had a daddy before, or a dad. Mommy would tell me all about them. Sit up late and describe what they would do, and what my life would be like if we had one. Even if you and dad aren’t anything like she said. …She’s not here… but I think she would have been happy that you and dad _are_ here, protecting me. She’d love you as much as I love you!” He tosses his arms around daddy’s neck, Batman clunking around wildly.

            Daddy sniffs, tugging Jack into a hug. “Yeah… I think she would.” He lets go, swiping at his eyes. “Oh I promised I wouldn’t… don’t want to ruin your sweater there, kiddo.”

            He looks down at it, nothing wrong with the ‘Choco-holic’ statement. “You can’t? Tears are water – and those dry.”

            “…Never mind,” he stands, hanging Jack’s coat up along with the others. “Come on,” daddy holds his hand out, “let’s go meet everybody.”

            Jack takes it, together walking over to where he can hear dad’s voice. “…again, we both deeply apologize about this. It wasn’t our intention for this to be a surprise, but if you could all remain calm, and don’t make any sudden movements –“

            A gruff voice coughs out a laugh. “You bringin’ a wild animal in here, Cas?”

            A woman, with a soft voice as sweet as sugar, speaks up. “Whatever it is Castiel, we’ll be –“ they round the corner, Jack locking eyes with her first – “we’ll be… be… _oh_.” Tears instantly pool in her eyes, and she covers her mouth with one hand, the other reaching over to the bearded man to her left.

            Everyone focuses on Jack. Daddy clears his throat. “Everyone… meet Jack. Our _son_.”

            There are too many people to focus on just one face. Jack tries, but even he can see the waves of emotions pouring out of the room. It’s overwhelming, and he tries to hide behind one of daddy’s legs.

            “Hey, hey – it’s okay kiddo,” he steps away, crouching once more to stand side by side with him. Daddy puts his hands on Jack’s shoulders. “It’s all going to be okay… you have Batman with you, right?” He clutches tight to his toy. “That’s it… it’s _all_ good. Say hi to everyone.”

            Jack lifts a hand, waving it stiffly. “…Hi…”

            The woman from before chokes back a sob, switching her gaze between daddy and dad. “Is this… did you two…”

            “He’s ours Mary,” dad says, “The newest member of our family.”

            Mary bursts into tears, smiling down at Jack. The man beside her has both his hands on her shoulders, too, and he’s looking at him with a few tear tracks down his own cheeks. Sam stands next to a more petite woman with the same golden hair as Mary, a baby in her arm. Across from them are a smaller couple, one with an extended stomach that both keep their hands on. And on Mary’s other side sits an older man with a faded baseball cap. They can’t say anything.

            But someone does. A young girl around Jack’s age with short, brown hair walks up to him, sizing him up. “Jack,” she says, “you’re new –“

            The woman next to Sam seizes. “Harlow!”

            “Where’ve you been?”

            “With my mommy,” he tells her, shrugging.

            “Where’s she?”

            “…She’s not here anymore.”

            “Huh…” Harlow holds out her hand. “I’m Harlow.”

            “Jack.” ‘ _She has a firm grip_.’

            “You like Batman?”

            “He’s my favorite.”

            “He’s _okay_ ,” she smiles, three gaps in her smile compared to Jack’s one, “but not better than Wonder Woman. D’ya wanna play?”

            “Okay?” Harlow didn’t let go of Jack’s hand, instead dragging him over to the pile of toys in the center of the room. She digs out a Wonder Woman action figure and holds it up.

            “I got her brand new – my daddy had to replace my old one ‘cause I played too rough. But he’s an old softy. I don’t play rough – I play to _win_.” That breaks the tension, and a few chuckles escape to fill the silence.

            Jack turns to daddy and dad, who watch them with twin sets of fondness. Daddy nods, encouraging him, while dad has his phone out. ‘ _If they say it’s okay…_ ’

            He knows playtime is only a short reprieve; that he’ll have to meet his new family soon enough. But Harlow and the rough-and-tumble way about her helps him forget about all the eyes staring at him. Jack laughs as they have Batman and Wonder Woman spar.

            ‘ _Thank you, mommy_ ,’ he thinks, ‘ _For choosing daddy and dad for me. The only thing that would make this perfect is if you were still here with us._ ’

            And, as Jack feels a slight tingle of warmth across his back, he knows that she is.


End file.
